


Haunted by the Past

by danceswithgary



Category: Smallville
Genre: Angst, Episode Related, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Podfic, Podfic Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-18
Updated: 2006-11-18
Packaged: 2017-10-03 18:55:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithgary/pseuds/danceswithgary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lex remembers. Remix of 'Bound'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haunted by the Past

**Author's Note:**

> Podfic at: <http://www.audiofic.jinjurly.com/haunted-by-past>

"It was opening night for 'La Boheme' and the lead soprano obviously had a cold. She should have allowed the understudy to take the role."

I took a sip from my wineglass, savoring the tannic bite of the heavy red. My companion looked up from the glass he had just refilled, curious about my abrupt speech after an almost silent meal.

"I wonder sometimes what would have happened, how different my life would have been if her performance had been better. Perhaps I wouldn't have been so easily tempted during the intermission and I would have stayed safely tucked away in my private box until it was over." I had to acknowledge that fallacy with a wry grin. "But I have to be honest, I was looking for a distraction, and she was looking for me. It was inevitable, fated even, an operatic tragedy in the making."

I needed to talk, to share in order to keep the shadows away. Attending that evening's performance was the first time I'd attended an opera since...

"Carrying my champagne to the railing, I stood there overlooking Metropolis' elite as they prowled about hunting for advantage in the short time between acts. As I checked my watch, my eye was caught by a flash of red just below. She was tall and slim with long hair in my favorite shade of glossy dark brown. The flame-colored dress rose in a shimmering column around her, revealing more than it concealed. She seemed to feel my eyes on her and looking up she raised her own glass and granted me an enigmatic smile. In an adult form of hide-and-seek, I lost her in the crowd. Searching the sea of black and white, I soon spotted her at the base of the main staircase. She again favored me with a smile and walked away. I left my glass on the rail and followed the lure."

My words were formal, laden with an archaic phrasing that matched my mood. My audience of one sat back in his chair, his meal forgotten as he allowed me to entertain him. Perhaps it was one too many glasses of wine with dinner after too many glasses of champagne at the benefit. More likely, it was my need to make it a story instead of a bitter truth.

"I found her looking out over the city, the city I knew I would own one day. Her face was serene, even remote and I wondered at her ability to ignore the crowd until I saw the discreet earbuds she was using. As I approached her, she glanced over her shoulder, her face still. Removing one bud, she raised an eyebrow, inviting me to speak. I asked what she was listening to and she held up the MP3 player, told me it was her favorite song, and then offered me the bud. I accepted it and leaned in to listen. She touched my face when I asked her name and declined to answer, asking me if it really mattered."

I needed to stop and sip my wine again, seeking courage to continue my confession.

"She was right, of course. She was beautiful, but I wasn't interested in her face or her name. That wasn't my style then. I was only seeking a type, someone I could use for a night and discard. I didn't realize then just how deadly my arrogance could be."

There were just a few sips left in my glass. I held it out and the remainder of the bottle became mine to savor. I swirled it slowly, admiring its ruby tint, but I waited a while longer to drink.

"Conversation was not the order of the evening. I appreciated the sculpted length of her legs as she exited my Ferrari, but restrained myself until we had entered the elevator. Our uninterrupted trip to the penthouse suite pleasantly confirmed my initial impression that she would not be a passive partner. Breaking away from her, I slid my jacket off, my tie a victim to our earlier embrace. Looking behind the bar, I found that once again, the hotel staff of the hotel had anticipated my arrival and my favorite champagne was chilling. She shook her head at my offer of a drink and instead backed me to the bed and pushed me down. I propped myself up on my elbows and watched as her dress slithered to the floor, leaving her wearing nothing but her stilettos."

I knew my frankness wouldn't offend my listener; we had shared more than words in the past. Still, there was no need for explicit descriptions. They weren't the point.

"Much later, I watched from the bed as she donned my shirt and made her way to the bar. She showed admirable skill in opening and decanting the champagne. Bringing the two flutes back to the bed with her, she presented one to me before sipping from her own. I had little patience for another round of foreplay, so I drained mine quickly and set it aside with her unfinished glass. Her mouth still held the subtle flavor of the wine as I pulled her back down to the waiting sheets. That was the end of the evening for me. To this day, I have been unable to recall the remainder of that ill-fated night."

I frowned as I once again tried to part the mists of my memory, only to fail. I saw concern in the face across from me, but I waved it away.

"I woke the next day to the shrill screaming of the maid. Disoriented, my mind was still foggy with what I later found out was a drugged sleep. The light streaming in was brighter than I expected, much later in the day than my norm. As I struggled to rise, I finally registered that the maid was pointing to the bed next to me. The reason for the heavy copper smell became apparent and I stumbled from the bed in an unprecedented panic. The gaping slash to the throat and the quantity of blood soaking into the sheets left no doubt my latest conquest was dead."

The heavy red of the wine no longer appealed to me, its color too similar to blood. I set the glass down and took a deep breath trying to banish the sensory ghosts of smell and touch. I had scrubbed myself in the shower that day for what felt like hours, feeling a kinship with Shakespeare's manic lady.

 

"The feeding frenzy of the press was easier to face than my lawyer, Corinne Harper. Her ruthless courtroom tactics had earned her the epithet, 'The Barracuda', used by clients and adversaries alike. My wealth bought me no leniency from either her or the court. I was fortunate enough to have the five million dollars required to spare myself the trauma of time behind bars, but nothing could shield me from her cutting tongue. She slashed at my account of the previous night, indifferent to my claim to innocence. My inability to supply something as simple as a name only exacerbated the situation. Employing a former lover as my defense attorney had its attendant hazards."

Declining the waiter's suggestion of dessert or coffee, I offered a well-aged scotch as inducement to accompany me back to the penthouse. I was accepted and we rose to depart. When my bodyguards approached, I indicated we would prefer to walk the few blocks instead of summoning the car. The fresh air would be welcome.

"In a world that expected the worst from me, I had one person who believed in me. He was willing to take my word that I was no murderer, able to transcend our history of lies and accusations. His honest distress at the thought that I would bed anonymous women led me to conceal earlier occasions. He would have supported me despite his dismay at my callous use of this particular woman. I sent him away, unwilling to taint his virtue with my immoral past. He left reluctantly. I should have realized he would not be deterred anymore than he had in the past whenever my life was threatened."

I fell silent for a few minutes, reflecting on loyalty in the face of deceit. I had done nothing to earn it. Friendship had been offered in spite of my constant invasion of privacy, faith despite my demand for trust without reciprocating. He had shown me the quality of mercy.

 

"I was sure that my father was involved in my entrapment, was still the master manipulator, even behind bars. He had managed to poison me while incarcerated; framing me would be child's play. He had only to find a likely candidate from the database maintained by LuthorCorp security and engage the right people to handle the job. I was unwilling to entertain any other hypotheses, negating any claim I might have made to scientific methods. Eager to clear my name, I raced to an address supplied by my attorney's office and my friend subsequently found me there, in Eve Andrew's house. When he saw me holding the burned remnants of damning photographs in my hands, I saw his belief in me falter, yet it did not fail completely, even knowing I had lied about my past encounters with women. With the sound of sirens nearing, I asked, and once again he saved me."

Having arrived at my building, I asked my bodyguards to stand down, leaving just the two of us in the elevator. It allowed me to speak freely as we ascended to the penthouse.

"He held his questions until we were alone. He was troubled at the thought that he was an accomplice now and demanded an explanation. I wanted to understand why he had shown up at the house, how he had known its location. I ignored the question of how he had arrived in Metropolis without a vehicle, knowing I would simply hear another badly fabricated falsehood. He explained he had visited my father in prison, at his request. He left believing my father had changed in prison and now only wanted to help. Livid at his betrayal, I accused him of alerting the police, conveniently forgetting his assistance when they arrived. I followed that brilliant move with a demand that he choose who to trust; my father, who had accurately advised him to find the owner of an unclaimed car at the hotel or me, the man with no alibi, a history of one-night stands and who had just involved him in destroying evidence and lying to the police."

A fire welcomed us in my study, its heat unnecessary but the flames creating an atmosphere conducive to quiet disclosures. I opened the balcony doors to the late summer heat, needing the illusion of freedom the outside air provided.

"When Corinne interrupted us, he left my study without a word. I was devastated; convinced I had finally destroyed the sole friendship that had kept me alive and sane. In spite of the many times he had saved me in the past, I no longer believed he had the power or the will to rescue me from my downward spiral. Corinne only confirmed that the hounds of justice were closing in on me. My drug tests had come back negative. The police now knew I had slept with Eve Andrews eighteen months previously. The fact that I had apparently sent her diamond earrings, as well as thirteen other women in as many months, did not help support my claim that I had not recognized her. A paranoid accusation of Corinne, alleging she used the database she had helped build to set me up as revenge for my past actions, left me with no attorney. I was alone and I had no one to blame but myself."

Pouring my prized scotch into two crystal tumblers, I presented one to my guest before tasting my own. I took advantage of the shadows as I studied the flames that provided the only light in the room.

 

"Corinne's bitter indictment of my inability to remember the names and faces of women I rewarded with diamond earrings left me reeling. Was I so jaded that I treated my transient partners as convenient receptacles for biological spasms imitating desire? Was I merely employing high-class whores and pretending to urbane sophistication? My introspection did not steer me to the next logical step of checking names, my security or the jeweler had known where to send the earrings, after all. Instead, my vaunted intelligence had taken leave and despair was in control as I mourned the loss of that tall, slim, brown-curled being I had driven away."

Lost in the past, I had not noticed my glass was empty. A proposed refill declined, I took a seat with my renewed drink. I swirled the liquor absently, tilting the glass, searching for the words I needed in its depths.

"Being summoned to Metropolis by Corinne was unexpected. Finding her dead in her office was horrifying. Once again, I grappled with my sanity at the sight of a woman's lifeblood spilling from her slashed throat. Retreating to the outer office, I dialed 911 and was predictably placed on hold. An MP3 player left on a nearby table caught my eye and suspicion crept in when I heard music issuing from the attached earbuds. Raising one to my ear, I heard the same song Eve Andrews shared with me and I surmised I was being set up to take the fall again. When I looked up, the woman with the gun confirmed my hypothesis. Shannon, Corinne's assistant, taunted me about my lack of recognition before taking her hair down and removing her glasses. I stood there frozen as the woman I met at the opera used her gun to knock me unconscious."

I rubbed the back of my neck as the muscles spasmed in sympathetic response. It had been neither the first nor the last time my head was a target.

"Using her law firm identification, Shannon convinced my security to remove their inebriated employer from her car. I woke, hands and feet taped to a chair in the center of my study, facing a gun held by a vindictive female. She ripped the tape from my mouth before explaining why I would die in Smallville. Convinced that I loved her, she exchanged a fiance for a single night here with me, her payoff a pair of diamond earrings. I refused her call afterwards and then failed to greet her three months later at Corinne's office. She was invisible, a non-entity, a woman scorned. And thus my hell was spawned."

I sat lost in recall, words failing me. Myriad emotions had ricocheted through my mind as I sat bound by my hubris. Ranging between dread, self-disgust, pity for lost sanity and anger at my vulnerability, there was finally chagrin at my blind certainty of paternal guilt.

"Touching me in a parody of affectionate caresses, she spoke of discovering that she was one of many, an acolyte in a glittering sisterhood. Eve Andrews was a pawn in her game of revenge, conveniently obsessed with me, easily convinced that I desired her a second time. Shannon's insistence that we had made love that evening cut through me, it was a term I had reserved for a future I had dreamed of, but knew I would not see. The revelation that she had switched the results of my drug test and alerted the police to my presence at Eve's house was anticlimactic. My mouth was bound once more, all apologies and pleas refused."

My glass was empty again, but I set it aside, my alcoholic oblivion delayed to serve the narrative.

"Two bottles of the finest whiskey were sacrificed to prepare my penance. The first anointed me, with particular attention to that portion of my anatomy that had sealed my fate, the alcohol stinging as if poured into open wounds. The second circumscribed me, decanted in a simple circle rather than the more apropos pentagram. Her words spilled out with the liquid, damning me for bedding her a second time while failing to notice the evidence of the first, accusing me of repeating the offense with others. Holding a lit taper, she read out the charges, pronounced judgment and let the candle fall. As the flames rose, I closed my eyes, awaiting death, picturing the face of my beloved. The anticipated agony never arrived. My security, finally alerted by smoke alarms, arrived to find me bound to the chair, enclosed by a ring of char, Shannon crumpled by the wall. An angel had intervened and my hell was held in abeyance."

I tried to compose myself, struggled to regain my equanimity and continue.

"Sitting in the bleak concrete room across from my father, I waited impatiently for his request. Proven wrong in my conviction that he was the driving force behind my arrest, I had discovered that he had aided my friend in his attempt to clear my name. It was not enough for me to forget his past actions, despite his claim that he was a changed man. I could not trust him; he would remain my father in name only. I left the prison and gathered my courage to face that friend, praying he still was."

My eyes closed as I relived my fear of a final rejection.

"Entering his sanctuary, I caught my breath at the sight of him standing, looking out at the stars. He looked around long enough to identify me, and then turned back to the night, declining to greet me. I approached him and then addressed his unyielding back. I thanked him for his help and apologized for my unreasonable actions. Refusing my words, he asked for deeds. He insisted that I must understand the consequences of my actions and that they might hurt people. Standing next to him, I exposed my underbelly. Confessing that I wondered myself at my behavior, I then revealed my belief that my death would save the world further grief and that I had accepted it until the fire went out. I told him of my desire to change, to deserve the second chance received when the flames died. He finally looked at me. I needed to erase the pain in his eyes as he told me how he felt as if we were enemies, and how he hated it. I was resolved. There would be no more proxies for my desire. I would reject counterfeit passion while I strove to deserve this unearthly beauty, altered myself to earn his love. I curbed Luthor pride and begged him not to give up on me."

My silence extended long enough to cause my guest to prompt me to go on. "And?"

"And that's a story for another evening." My beloved's welcome voice issued from the balcony and he walked through the doors into the room. "Bruce, thank you for filling in for me tonight. I hated the idea of him attending the performance by himself, but it was the usual 'Luthors face their demons' argument." He walked over to my chair and bent down for a quick kiss and admonition. "I need a shower and you need to get in bed. You promised to take me to the new show at the planetarium, remember?"

Bruce let out a bark of laughter at the idea of escorting Superman to a show about life on other planets. He reassured Clark, "It was my pleasure. This benefit at the opera was a joint Wayne Enterprises-LexCorp effort after all. Despite a tendency to melancholy, he did entertain me."

Escorting Bruce to the door, I thanked him for indulging my penchant for soliloquy. Smiling, he thanked me for the entertainment and asked if my mood had improved. Patting his shoulder as he walked by, I affirmed I would be fine, now that Clark was home.

After all, not all operas end in tragedy.


End file.
